Snake's Game

Nahian Nasir

Trust me, life is a whole lot tougher when you're possessed by a god.

The eatery I am at is called the Red Apple; its quaint atmosphere and cozy furniture reminds me of a certain village I had visited years ago. Its food is not the best in the world; but you couldn't hear me complaining. When you live alone and depend upon restaurants and your neighbors' sympathy to fill your belly, you can't really judge.

This place is old, and you can sense it. Even now, you can <i>feel</i> the conversations people have had here long ago. Untold stories and tiny, private histories, all stored within the weary walls of this simple restaurant.

The dim blue light illuminating the place is strangely satisfying; a speaker system plays flute music nearby.

The window I am sitting next to displays a beautifully kept garden. The moon illuminates a white cat that stares at me.

The place is nearly empty today, its just me and a few other families scattered across the many seats. The waiters' footsteps echo and one of them places a menu at my table. Far away, a small television hums.